


You’ve Cast A Spell Over Me... Nope, Just A Hex

by xenadragon_xoxo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenadragon_xoxo/pseuds/xenadragon_xoxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is a very important person with a very important job. He's got a tight schedule to keep, but he’s always willing to spare a few minutes to hex Harry Potter.</p><p><b>Featured Book:</b> <span class="u">Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	You’ve Cast A Spell Over Me... Nope, Just A Hex

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



  
  
Cover Design by renrenre3   


**Preface:** _Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed is a book about hexes aimed at wizards who don't have the time or the patience to learn more elaborate spells._

Draco Malfoy was extremely proud of himself. Not only had he managed to scale the corporate ladder at the Ministry in just eight years due to his excessive talents in his department and his multi-lingual eloquence, he had also managed to find a way around his extremely busy schedule to pursue his favourite hobby: hexing Harry Potter.

As head of the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, twenty-six-year-old Draco didn’t have a lot of spare time on his hands. Even before being elected as the youngest head of his department in a century, he’d spent too much time doing Very Official Business with the best Quidditch teams in the country and sucking up to his boss to really have enough time to do what he loved doing best. It wasn’t easy, seeing as the object of his entertainment was equally busy and about one step away from promotion to the Head of the Auror Office. Draco would have been more than willing to bet his bottom dollar that by this time next year, Potter would have already filled the prestigious position, especially since Gawain Robards was planning to retire. It was about time, too – the old man looked just about ready to dissolve into nothing but wrinkles at any second. 

Draco had spent copious amounts of his free time over the past few years hexing Potter. Whether it was by simply casting a spell over his shoulder to make the stack of files Potter was carrying tumble to the floor in a mess or finding a way to stall the lift he was in, Draco had conceived all sorts of elaborate plans to drive Potter crazy. It was difficult being in the same place as Potter due to the fact that their offices were five floors apart, but Draco usually managed to find an excuse to take a trip down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the second floor. Unfortunately, coming up with all these ingenious ideas took up majority of Draco’s time and it had been a fair while since he’d paid Potter a visit.

But who cared, really? All that mattered now was the fact that Draco had finally, _finally_ received that book he’d ordered a fortnight ago that would definitely help him with his area of expertise. Excitedly, Draco tore the plain brown paper from the package he’d found sitting at his desk that morning and revealed the simple, mahogany, hard-bound book he had been longing to see forever. Engraved in gold on its cover was the title: _Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed_. 

Draco smirked, feeling immensely satisfied with himself. He flicked it open and began reading, his eyes widening at the contents page. There were definitely some rather interesting options, and he couldn’t wait to start –

“Mr. Malfoy!” 

A voice called from outside Draco’s small office. He glanced up just as his secretary, Miss Heidi Macavoy, a former Hufflepuff, opened his door a crack and peered in. He sighed, annoyed at being interrupted, and nodded for her to enter. She stepped into the room, her expression similar to one a child would have after eating a lemon. “The manager of the Appleby Arrows is on his way up,” she informed him. “He says he would like you to reconsider your decision to continue the ban his team.”

Draco groaned. “Tell him I’ll reconsider when his fans reconsider shooting arrows at innocent spectators and referees during games,” he snapped. “I’m busy and do not wish to be disturbed.”

Macavoy rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir,” she replied, quite used to Draco’s many definitions of the word “busy” by now. “But you do realise that he’s going to burst into your office no matter what I say?”

“He can’t do that if I’m not in,” Draco said decidedly, striding out of the room quickly. “If anyone asks, I’ve gone to do some Very Important Work!” he added, calling over his shoulder. Being head of this department wasn’t easy. He was only allowed to take thirteen teams per year to play in the League, he was used to having angry Wizards come after his head. Whenever the situation became too life-threatening, Draco preferred to step out. Especially, when it came to dealing with annoying managers who really had no right to complain about their ineligibility in the Quidditch League.

Draco had just decided that he’d grab a cup of coffee as an excuse when someone called out to him. “Slacking off again, Malfoy?”

Draco started, spinning around, and was extremely surprised to see Potter striding out of the Ludicrous Patents Office. “What’s it to you?” he demanded, glancing around fervently. He didn’t want to get caught by that Appleby Arrows manager – although it would be just typical for Potter to ruin everything for him as usual. “And what are you doing here?”

“Some case involving illegal patenting,” the infuriatingly calm man replied. “No big deal; I was just heading back down. Have fun avoiding Howlers – I saw a rather nasty-looking one with your name on it flying up the stairs.”

Draco glared after him, about to retaliate, when he spotted the familiar top hat of a manager he really didn’t want to see right now exiting the lift. He hurriedly dashed around a corner and disappeared from sight. He was instantly annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t been able to shoot a clever, sass-filled comeback at Potter. He couldn’t possibly let Potter win this! He had never allowed such an occurring before, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now!

Draco scowled, feeling quite angry with himself for allowing Potter to get away with speaking to him like that. He frowned, forcing his brilliant brain to think of a plan to get back at him. When he did, a devilish smirk formed across his lips. It was time to put that book he had ordered to good use.

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 17:** _The Horn Tongue Hex is a spell used to turn the target’s tongue into a horn._

The next morning, Draco made a quick stop by Level Two of the Ministry, and as he entered the lift, his finger alighted on the correct button on reflex, and it was really no surprise that the manoeuvre came automatically – his trips down to that floor were extremely frequent and a brilliant means to release pent-up tension on the Ministry’s Poster Boy. 

The lift doors slid open, and he marched towards the Auror Office. Several workers at their desks glanced up as he strode in, but none of them said anything about his arrival. Draco’s visits to the department warranted no more than a few rolls of eyes and shakes of heads, and no one bothered to question his presence. Besides, majority of them had learned from experience that it was better to avoid eye contact.

A memo fluttered down and Draco reached up to catch it. He unfolded it and read, “ _Meeting with Puddlemere United in ten minutes._ ” He pocketed the note and figured that he’d simply have to find Potter quickly. He sped up the pace, and grinned broadly when he saw a familiar figure pacing briskly ahead of him, reading a folder with a creased brow. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Hey, Potter!” Draco called, and he heard a collective groan from the occupants of the surrounding desks, who had grown accustomed to being forced to witness several spats between the two men and suffering the consequences. Potter turned sharply at the sound of his name, and Draco grinned triumphantly when he saw a very irritated look grace Potter’s easy-to-read expression. “If you were on fire and I had a glass of water, I’d use it to quench my non-existent thirst.”

A flash of something that was neither anger nor amusement crossed those green, bespectacled eyes. This was the best part of getting a rise out of Potter – watching and gauging his reactions. “You know, Malfoy,” he said casually, “I really admire your neck.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Why is that?”

“It has to hold up such a big head,” replied Potter.

Draco smirked. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Potter? How endearing. How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

Potter made a sound in his throat that was half growl, half exasperated-sigh. The sound sent a form of a thrill through Draco’s skin. “Do you annoy people as a hobby, or is that just your personality?”

“Not people, Potter,” he sneered. “Just you.”

“Glad to see I’m special to you,” Potter replied without missing a beat.

Adrenaline rushed through Draco’s veins, as it always did when he confronted Potter. It was something he’d probably never get over. Taunting Potter gave him a rush similar to that which one might experience when using drugs.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Draco drawled. “Sarcasm won’t get you anywhere.”

“If it’ll get me away from you, that’s good enough for me,” Potter retaliated, turning away to bury himself in the file he had been reading. Draco felt a twitch of irritation at being dismissed so discourteously. Discreetly drawing his wand, he flicked it and muttered an incantation under his breath.

The result was instantaneous – Potter dropped what he was holding and coughed violently, doubling over and falling unceremoniously to the floor. His lack of grace highly amused Draco, even as several people who had been watching in silence hurried over to help him. Weasley was the first at Potter’s side, and he hoisted him to his feet, casting a glare at Draco which went ignored.

“Harry? Harry, mate, you alright? What’s the git done to you?” Weasley questioned, shaking him lightly by the shoulders.

Potter opened his mouth, probably to respond, and a long, thin horn jutted out of his mouth, bright yellow and rather spiked.

Draco roared with laughter at around the same time as everyone screamed. Potter was staring at him in shock, because although they’d thrown a few Trip Jinxes around and had even gone as far as to Disarm each other in the halls before, Draco had never done anything physically harming to him. He made no move to hex Draco back, although Draco was sure he could do it nonverbally and with little to no effort, instead only fixing him with a stunned gaze that was slowly turning more and more angry as each second passed, appearing oblivious to the spectators’ attempts to help him. Then his eyes flashed dangerously in that way Draco simply loved to see, and he moved to grab his wand.

That was Draco’s cue to leave. Before Potter could think of a spell, he had rushed nimbly out of the hallway and re-entered the lift, jamming his thumb on the “close” button before anyone could catch up to him.

Satisfied, Draco leaned back against the walls of the thankfully empty lift and glanced at his watch. He was just in time for his meeting.

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 24:** _The Instant Scalping Hex shaves all the hair off a target’s scalp._

Draco had spent a good portion of the morning arguing with a violent Quidditch player who he had banned from competing in this year’s League. Really, it wasn’t his fault that the idiot was renowned for beating up his opponents with his broom whenever his team lost a match. He exhaled shakily and exited the room, telling his secretary that he was going for some coffee.

“You can’t take a break now!” she exclaimed as he strode past her. “The Minister of Magical Games and Sports wants those drafts in half an hour and you haven’t written a word!”

“I’ll manage,” Draco replied easily, slipping out the door. Truth be told, he didn’t want any caffeinated drinks at the moment. Instead, he hopped in the lift, knowing that he could always escape to the lower levels of the Ministry to relieve his tension. He didn’t even have to go that far, as Potter was standing in the front of the lifts on Level Two, discussing something in with a fellow Auror who Draco didn’t recognise or even bother to try to place. 

“Hey, Potter!” Draco drawled, pleasantly surprised when Potter turned to the sound of his voice and tensed immediately. “I’d like to challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed.”

The unfamiliar Auror hurriedly excused himself, clearly not wanting to be a part of the mess that was bound to ensue. 

“Shakespeare, huh?” Potter replied, and Draco noticed that his tongue was back to normal. He felt a twitch of satisfaction in the knowledge that the effects of the spell he was about to use were irreversible and could only be treated with time. “Been reading Muggle literature, Malfoy?”

“There is no denying his gift with eloquence,” Draco responded smoothly. “I must confess that I am impressed you could follow his work.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Potter snapped, his hand slowly moving towards his wand, instantly on his guard. 

“It’s simply that calling you stupid would be quite an insult to stupid people,” Draco smirked. “If you fell off your ego and landed on your IQ, it’d be like committing suicide.”

“Same goes for you,” Potter replied snappishly.

“My intelligence level is far superior to yours and rather impressive, thank you,” he responded.

“I never said it wasn’t. Your ego, however...”

Draco drew his wand instantly and cast the hex he had memorised. Potter was thrown backwards and fell clumsily to the floor, his head striking the ground with incredible force that would have probably cracked his skull had Draco not cast a quick Cushioning Charm (not because he really cared what happened to the prick, but because he would get in serious trouble if he accidentally killed the Man Who Lived Twice). Someone was already rushing over, yelling something unintelligible at Draco and kneeling down next to Potter. It was really rather fascinating how everyone fawned over him.

Potter sat up wearily, looking altogether unharmed – aside from the fact that he was now completely bald.

Draco chuckled as the few people on the scene gasped in shock. Potter looked confused. “What is it?” he questioned, just as Draco backed away into the lift and the doors closed. He had the pleasure of hearing an outraged cry echo through the thin walls before the lift began to surge upwards. 

Somewhere, a clock chimed the hour. He had a report to write within fifteen minutes, but he didn’t concern himself with it – he had a gift for writing convincingly accurate drafts when needed. In other words, he had a talent for bullshitting. Besides, he wouldn’t have traded all the time in the world for this opportunity to feel utter satisfaction in tormenting and hexing Potter.

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 36:** _The Pepper Breath Hex is used to give the victim fiery hot breath._

Draco strode hurriedly into the Ministry the next morning, consulting the watch strapped around his wrist. He had overslept and was more than a little late, and the line to get into bathrooms was extremely long. He glanced around and noticed that he wasn’t the only one who was running late – Potter was lining up to get into the stall next to him, fixing his glasses that were permanently askew, and running his hands distractedly through his messy –

Wait.

Draco cursed silently under his breath. He’d underestimated Potter’s magic. Maybe the git had the ability to re-grow hair overnight. Luckily, Potter didn’t notice him – he was too busy speaking to a rather important-looking official in low tones. The situation they were discussing seemed grave, and Potter was saying something about leaving immediately to take care of the problem. The officer replied that it would probably take a week to get the situation under control, so he would inform the Minister of Potter’s leave. 

An entire week was an awfully long time. 

In that moment, Draco made a split-second decision. He waved his wand, murmured an incantation, and waited.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then Potter began to cough, but in a different way from when Draco had given him a horn for a tongue. It sounded more as if he had swallowed a great deal of chilli or black pepper and was struggling to get it out of his throat. The Ministry officer clapped him on the back and expressed some words of concern, but when Potter opened his mouth, a stream of steam burst out of it and burnt the officer’s sleeve. Both parties yelped and someone screamed as the officer jabbed at the sleeve with his wand. Potter’s next exhalation had him practically breathing fire and onlookers were hurriedly backing away.

Draco ducked into the bathroom stall he had been waiting for. Just as he slammed the door shut, he saw Potter glance up at him, green eyes flashing brilliantly with pure fury and cheeks flushed a flattering red. Draco chuckled – he was going to have a good day.

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 45:** _The Tickling Hex is used to tickle and weaken the target._

Potter really was gone for a week. Draco searched for him in several places, coming up with excuses to visit random floors of the Ministry whenever he had a few moments to spare (which wasn’t really all that often) and eavesdropping on Weasley and Granger’s conversations whenever he could get away with it. He had several hexes memorised down to perfection and was extremely annoyed by the fact that the prick wasn’t around to fall victim to his genius. In fact, it could probably be said (quietly) that Draco almost _missed_ him. Almost, but not really, of course.

Which was why it was an extremely pleasant surprise for Draco when he left the cafeteria clutching a hot cup of coffee on Monday morning and saw Potter speaking to Granger. He looked exhausted and rather upset over something. Unfortunately, Draco didn’t have enough time to properly start an argument with him, as he was running late and his boss was rather mad at him for being later than usual for Very Important Business meetings twice in the past week. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t have time for a quick flick of his wand. Potter was only standing a few feet away from him, and he didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss. Draco drew his wand very slowly and pointed it at him.

“ _Titillando_ ,” he muttered, brandishing his wand as non-threateningly as possible. Purple light shot out of his wand and formed the shape of hands, where they instantly attacked Potter. Granger leaped back in shock as Potter was tickled by the hex, beginning to laugh and clutch as his stomach until he had fallen onto the floor.

Draco smirked smugly. Although Potter had been too consumed by giggles to see him, he was certain that Potter knew who had cast the hex on him. Draco figured it was rather kind of him to go for a hex that might actually improve Potter’s mood than damage it further. How was _that_ for a welcome back gift?

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 50:** _The Stickfast Hex makes the target’s shoes stick to the ground._

 **Page 73:** _Entomorphis is the incantation of a hex that can be used to induce insect-like qualities upon a victim for a short period of time. It deprives them of their ability to speak, forcing them to crawl about and endowing them with feelers._

There were a few times a year when Draco felt himself tire of working at the Ministry, and this was one of those times – when some idiot decided it would be fun to hold a meeting involving every single fucking Quidditch League organiser in the Wizarding World. He had spent approximately three hours stuck in the Department of International Magical Cooperation on the fifth floor of the Ministry and was already starting to miss his enclosed office. 

The morning wasn’t going well – he’d already had a pretty nasty argument with Norway’s representative and there were several disagreements regarding the International Quidditch League, which wasn’t even under Draco’s jurisdiction!

Annoyed after a long debate with a woman with an unbearably thick accent, Draco exited the meeting room for a little fresh air. The meeting had only been adjourned for ten minutes, but at the rate things were going, if he didn’t let off some steam, he’d definitely end up murdering someone, so he’d take all the breaks he could get.

And then Draco spotted a raven-haired, messily dressed man in Auror robes engrossed in deep conversation with the head of the International Magical Office of Law. He blinked once, twice, making sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. They weren’t – Harry Potter was, indeed, on the same floor as he was. A smirk spread across Draco’s lips.

“You’re aware, of course, Mr. Potter, that what you’re suggesting would cause quite a ruckus before getting the job done?” Draco heard the department head question.

Potter smiled pleasantly, although he was clearly frustrated – that much could be seen in the clenching of his jaw and the way his fingers clutched the papers he was holding. “We don’t have to go through with it, it’s just a thought I had –”

“A thought crossed your mind, Potter?” Draco drawled, cutting him off midsentence. Potter glanced up and drew his wand immediately while the International Magical Office of Law head frowned. “Must have been a long and lonely journey.”

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Potter snarled, looking very much like he was not in the mood.

“This is highly inappropriate behaviour, Mr. Malfoy,” the head of the department said crossly.

Draco ignored him in favour of meeting Potter’s challenging green gaze. “What’s that?” Draco asked, pointing at something behind Potter’s back. Potter raised his wand warningly before chancing a quick glance over his shoulder. Of course, there was nothing there. “I know what it is now,” Draco smirked. “Your stupidity. Really, Potter, if ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest person alive.”

The head of the IMOL has already turned his back on them and was walking off, mumbling something about complaining to the Minister about this workplace dysfunction. Potter looked extremely annoyed, possibly at having missed his chance to convince the man that whatever plan he had was a good one. He looked over his shoulder again, this time at the retreating form of the head he had been speaking to. “You know what, Malfoy?” he said, turning back to face him. 

Draco nearly stumbled backwards when he saw Potter smiling at him. It wasn’t a sarcastic smile or even a grimace of frustration – it was a full-blown, albeit fake, flash of teeth. Draco’s hand flew automatically to his wand, thinking that he had crossed a line and that Potter was going to Stun him. Instead, Potter determinedly took a few steps forward and cocked an eyebrow, one side of his mouth curving into an impossibly sensual smirk. Despite himself, Draco took a few steps back. 

“How about you slip into something a little more comfortable for the both of us?” Potter murmured, getting dangerously close to Draco now. The innuendo in those words was not lost on Draco, who was now backed up against a wall. Potter just kept moving until he stood right in front of him. Draco swallowed nervously as Potter leaned down. He was not aroused by this, not interested in this, not at all. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Potter?” Draco snapped, but his voice sounded slightly weaker than normal.

Potter leaned across him, and his lips brushed the shell of Draco’s ear. Despite himself, Draco felt heat pool in his stomach. He had no idea what they were doing, and in public no less, but no one was paying them even the slightest bit of attention. Draco was about to decide between snogging Potter senseless and hexing him into oblivion when Potter whispered, “Like a coma?”

It took a few moments for Draco to realise what he had said, and then Potter had backed away and was striding off at an incredibly brisk pace. Anger at himself for falling for Potter’s tricks and anger at Potter for being a right prick instantly fuelled Draco’s fury, and he didn’t even care that he was probably going to be late for the restarting of the meeting. He raised his wand.

“ _Colloshoo_!” he muttered. 

Potter’s shoes instantly glued themselves to the ground, and Potter went sprawling forwards. He fell face-first and only managed to catch himself with his arms just in time, although that resulted in his papers flying everywhere. Angrily, he pulled his feet out of his shoes and stood up, spinning to face Draco, his wand drawn and held out straight in front of him. He shouted out some form of incantation but Draco didn’t hear it as he himself aimed for Potter’s heart and said, “ _Entomorphis_!” A blast of red light escaped his wand and his Potter squarely in the chest. A few concerned bystanders rushed towards him as Potter fell forwards onto his hands. Feelers sprouted from the top of his head and he crawled along the floor, seemingly unable to get up. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to have lost his ability to speak. 

Briefly, Draco admired his handiwork, then waited for himself to feel the effects of some sort of hex, but nothing seemed to have happened. The only difference was that his shoes seemed to have gotten a little tighter (as well as his pants, but he suspected that didn’t have anything to do with whatever Potter had thrown at him). Potter had probably missed his target – what sort of an Auror did that? He smirked and glanced at his watch. Oh, look – his ten minutes were up.

He re-entered the meeting room feeling far more refreshed, and sat down to continue his arguments.

Draco only needed to spend about twenty minutes at the meeting to know that something was very, very wrong. His shoes were, indeed, a lot tighter than before, and were becoming almost painfully stuffy, and he could feel his toenails digging into the leather. He was fairly certain that they’d been the right size just half an hour ago. 

As soon as he had the opportunity, Draco escaped to the loo and removed his shoes. He was absolutely disgusted and horrified to see that his toenails had grown at an alarming rate and were already revoltingly long, having torn holes in his socks almost grotesquely. But how...?

 _Potter_.

Of course. He hadn’t missed when he shot something at Draco – he had simply chosen a more passive aggressive form of hex. Draco waved his wand over his toes, trying to figure out how to stop it, and while cutting off the excess nail worked for a while, it did nothing to stop them from growing again.

It’d have to do, though, as he really had to get back to that meeting. He was sure he’d find a way to reverse the hex if he went home and studied some old books. For now, he would settle for the discomfort in favour of keeping his reputation solid. Well, as solid as it could be when you were known for hexing the Chosen One.

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 86:** _Steleus is a hex that causes victim to sneeze for a short period of time._

When Draco awoke the next morning, his toenails had grown over the edge of the bed and nearly out the door. Needless to say, he hadn’t been able to find a cure for them, so he severed them as quickly as he could and went to work as usual. Unfortunately, not only did his nail problem distract him from work, it was also starting to hurt his feet. 

So Draco did the only thing he could think of – he swallowed his pride and walked, barefooted, to the Ministry’s hospital wing. It was usually Aurors who went there after sustaining minor injuries during training or cases, but it wasn’t altogether rare to see another Ministry worker there. The nurse on duty, who had a rather large and unsightly wart on her cheek, made a quick assessment of his condition and pronounced him otherwise, healthy.

“This is a very rare hex,” she noted absentmindedly. “I wouldn’t have known what to do with it, had I not seen it once a long time ago myself.” She waved her wand a few times and Draco’s toenails miraculously shrank back to normal size. “Be more careful with that mouth of yours, sonny – I’ll warrant that’s what got you hexed.”

“Sort of,” Draco allowed. He thanked her and left. His ego was severely wounded after having to get assistance for a personal grooming problem, and he was itching to get back at Potter for his clever little manoeuvre. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough time to go searching for the idiot, as he had already fallen behind on paperwork, and –

But speak of the Dark Lord. There was Potter, seated on a bench outside one of the rooms, waiting for his turn to be seen by a more professional Healer, who was present exclusively for the Aurors. Draco reached for his wand, ready to confront the Scarhead with everything he had.

“Hey, Potter!” he called, ready to fire out a random hex at him, when Potter turned to look at him. It was with great restraint that Draco stopped his jaw from dropping when he saw the blood running down the side of his face. “Salazar, what’s happened to you?”

Potter chuckled. “Is that a touch of concern? I’m flattered and rather confused.”

Draco ignored him and frowned, leaning forward to inspect the gash in Potter’s head. “Are you certain that none of your limited brains are leaking out through here?”

“That sounds more familiar,” Potter replied easily. “I was hit by a Passing Spell on a case. No big deal.”

“Potter, Potter, always trying to play the hero,” Draco smirked, although he felt an odd tug of something like possession somewhere in his stomach. No one else should hex Potter – that was _his_ job.

“I’m not playing anything,” Potter responded. “I’m just doing my duty.”

“Your duty as the Ministry’s Golden Boy and Saviour of the Wizarding World, you mean.”

Potter clicked his tongue. “I’m not trying to live up to any expectations of me. Just because I like the straight and narrow route that’s most obvious for me doesn’t make me a doormat.”

“You do realise that no one else sees it that way?” Draco drawled.

“And why should it matter what others think?” Potter shot back lightly. “If I cared so much, I wouldn’t be happy. That’s your problem, you know – you’re always so worried about your reputation.”

“A reputation is important if you want to get anywhere in the world,” Draco replied. He was privately marvelling at the fact that they had been speaking for several minutes without attempting to hex each other’s heads off. That was progress right there.

“A reputation matters about as much as a broken wand in a duel,” Potter said shortly. “And believe me, I’d know.”

Draco felt a small, almost sincere smile tug at his lips at Potter’s directness. “Interesting point of view, but perhaps you hit your head too hard, or need new glasses – it’s a little blurred and rather idiotic,” he stated.

“I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my arse,” Potter replied shortly.

Draco laughed quietly, and Potter fell in after him.

“Look, I know you don’t believe me when I say it, but why should it matter what others think of you?” Potter said, when they had both stopped chuckling. “There’s a Muggle saying for that: Always be yourself, because the people who mind don’t matter, and the people who matter don’t mind.”

Draco suddenly found that he rather agreed with Potter on this one, which would certainly not do. “Well, what do you know, you actually sound reasonable, Potter,” Draco smirked. “Time to up my medication.”

“I always knew you were on something,” Potter retaliated. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Your little stunt,” Draco replied. “That toenail-growing bit was nifty, Potter.”

“Thanks,” Potter said quietly. “Learned it from Snape.”

Draco smiled at the memory of his godfather, although he found it difficult to envision Severus teaching Potter anything without demolishing the room they were in. “You’re not such a bad guy, Potter. At least, I don’t think you are.”

Potter raised an eyebrow. “There are a lot of people who aren’t bad guys. Why don’t you go bother them?”

“Because you’re closer,” Draco replied. “Perhaps it _is_ slightly odd that I’m expressing concern over a prick who hit me with a very rare hex. I suppose I am simply that good of a person.”

“Or stupid,” Potter added.

Draco smirked. “Let’s stick with good.” He glanced at the clock on the wall and realised that he was remarkably behind schedule. For some reason, he found that he didn’t care. Still, he’d have to get started on all the work piling up on his desk if he wanted to be out of here for the weekend. He stood up. “I have work that needs to be done.” 

“See you around,” Potter offered.

“Sure. Oh, and Potter?”

“Yes?”

“ _Steleus_.”

Green rays shot out of Draco’s wand and landed upon Potter, who began to sneeze uncontrollably. Draco laughed as he made a quick escape before the other man could so much as draw his wand. He wasn’t certain what this thing he’d just had with Potter was – perhaps a truce – but he knew it didn’t change anything, not really. He was still going to hex him with every chance he got.

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 96:** _EngorgioSkullus is the incantation of a hex used to swell the skull and surrounding tissue of the victim._

In hindsight, making Potter and Draco work together was probably not a good idea, but it was Draco’s Very Important Responsibility as head of the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters to cooperate with the Auror on duty (in this case, Potter) and provide him with all the information that he might need regarding the case at hand, which involved the murder of one of the new players of the Holyhead Harpies. Draco and Potter had been quite alright at first, until Draco became slightly annoyed by the sheer number of questions Potter had to ask.

“Look, Potter, I haven’t got all day, and you seem to be taking your sweet time,” he snapped. “I have much better things to do than listen to you drone on.”

Potter frowned. “These questions are standard procedure, Malfoy. I’m sure you of all people –”

“You know nothing of me and therefore cannot be sure of anything,” Draco interrupted.

“It’s just a few more questions, and then –”

“I don’t want to hear them,” Draco cut in rudely. “Perhaps you are used to mindless folk bowing down to you and worshiping your every word, but I am not blinded by that scar on your forehead.”

Potter’s green eyes flashed in annoyance, a reaction which caused Draco a thrill of pleasure. Infuriatingly, however, Potter kept his cool. “As should be, as I am not blinded by your scars either.” He glanced pointedly at the Dark Mark which Draco had rather forgotten was on his arm. The whole ex-Death Eater thing was actually considered quite a novelty among witches since the effects of the War had dissipated. They liked the bad boys, and Draco was a very bad boy.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “I do not wish to answer any more of your questions, and that is final.”

“Stop being so fucking childish,” Potter snarled. “This isn’t about you; there is a murder investigation –”

“ – and you will learn far more from the deceased’s teammates than you will ever learn from me,” Draco finished coldly. “You are wasting time here, Potter – both mine and yours. And to be honest, you aren’t really worth any of mine.”

The words were out before Draco could stop them, even though he knew he hadn’t meant them. It was too late to take them back now. Potter’s eyes flashed again, this time rather dangerously, and Draco felt the blood rush through his veins just a little faster as Potter stood up, adopting a defensive stance.

It was really funny – hilarious, in fact – that as Draco searched desperately for something to say that wouldn’t get him jinxed into oblivion, his eyes fell on that copy of _Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed_ , and he did the first thing that came to mind. He drew his wand hastily, a move which Potter was fast to copy, and yelled, “ _EngorgioSkullus_!” at approximately the same time as Potter shouted, “ _Densaugeo_!” Green light flashed in Potter’s direction as a similar jet of light rushed towards Draco.

Draco didn’t have time to check whether his hex had hit Potter or not because he was suddenly thrown back against the wall, and was overwhelmed by a strange sensation flooding through his mouth. His hands instinctively flew to cover his lips and he let out a horrified yelp when he realised that his two front teeth had grown to almost twice their original size and were still steadily enlarging. He tried to mutter the counter-curse, but he found that he was rather unable to speak with his teeth obstructing his mouth.

Meanwhile, Potter was stumbling awkwardly backwards, crashing into Draco’s desk and sending the neatly stacked files resting on its corner into disarray. His head had engorged to at least thrice its supposed size – a perfect representation of the ego he carried in there – and was making it clearly difficult for Potter to balance. Draco would have laughed at how stupid Potter looked if he wasn’t preoccupied with the fact that his front teeth had already grown large enough to reach his chin.

Potter ambled over to him and shoved him roughly against the wall. “Undo this curse!” he shouted.

Draco gestured to his teeth, indicating that he couldn’t speak the counter-hex if he wanted to. He hadn’t had the need to practise nonverbal spells for a long time and wasn’t going to risk trying it on Potter. The outcome might be hilariously disastrous, but there was no doubt in Draco’s mind that Potter was capable of killing him and getting away with it if he really wanted to, and he didn’t want to test that theory.

“I don’t give a fuck about your pretty face,” Potter snapped, and Draco nearly raised an eyebrow at the slightly flirtatious ending to his sentence. “And I don’t care how you do it. Reverse the spell.”

Draco somehow managed to smirk around his now disgustingly large teeth, challenging Potter. Did the soon-to-be Head Auror not know how to reverse a simple hex?

“I know how to do it,” Potter snarled. “But you put the fucking hex on me, so you’re going to undo it.”

Draco glared at him and gestured to his horrifying teeth again.

Potter watched him carefully for a few moments then pointed his wand straight at Draco’s face. Draco tried his hardest not to flinch and to still appear regal with beaver-like teeth, but he wasn’t sure he was doing such a good job. 

“ _Reducio_ ,” Potter said. There was a glare of purple light, and Draco recognised the effects of a Shrinking Charm. The unpleasant sensation of having enamel pressed against skin slowly receded and Draco touched his mouth experimentally. His teeth seemed back to their original size. 

Draco noticed Potter’s eyes flicker briefly to follow his fingers where they touched and inspected his lips. He didn’t have much time to wonder about it.

“Now undo this,” Potter ordered.

Draco gritted his teeth. He didn’t like giving into Potter, but he seemed to have little alternative. He reluctantly raised his wand and hissed, “ _RedactumSkullus_.” There was a flash of red light, and Potter’s head shrank slowly back to its correct proportions. 

Draco watched as Potter ran a hand through his hair, looking smug at having gotten the chance to boss Draco around. In an instant, fury rushed through his veins, and he dropped his wand and swung his arm forward. His fist connected with Potter’s cheek.

Potter stumbled backwards, losing his grip on his wand. It clattered to the floor with Draco’s, but Potter didn’t even stop to pick it up. He simply stared at Draco in disbelief for a few seconds before rushing at him and throwing a punch of his own, which landed squarely on Draco’s nose with a crack. Draco winced but reacted quickly, grabbing Potter by the arm and attempting to twist it behind his back. Potter, slightly stronger than he was, struggled against him, and Draco’s back slammed into the wall again and the back of Potter’s head nearly smashed his already bleeding nose. 

Draco couldn’t help but notice the way Potter’s ass rubbed against his crotch as he fought to get away. Draco’s breath hitched and Potter took advantage of his distraction to spin around and pin him effectively to the wall. Potter’s right leg wedged itself between Draco’s to hold him in place, and Draco realised, to his horror, that if he didn’t get this sudden spike of arousal within control, he might end up embarrassing himself horribly.

In order to get away from the awkward position, Draco grabbed Potter by the collar and attempted to shove him away, aiming a punch with his free hand. Potter grabbed his wrist defensively as Draco bucked upwards to throw him off. It had been the wrong move – Draco was now definitely hard, thanks to the friction, and he was fairly certain that even Potter wasn’t dense enough not to notice.

Potter paused, and the pair of them stared at each other for a moment, breathing heavily, blood running down Draco’s face and a red mark that was bound to turn into a bruise already forming on Potter’s cheek. In desperation, Draco swung his leg, attempting to kick Potter away, and his movement caught Potter in the shin. Potter shouted in pain but didn’t move away, instead moving to slam his foot against Draco’s knee. There was then a flurry of more punches, more kicks, and a few scratches.

And then Potter pulled at Draco’s hair, jerking his head backwards, and sunk his teeth into his neck.

There was another pause as Draco processed the sensation of Potter biting at his throat and as Potter hurriedly released him, looking shocked at what he had done. Draco quickly decided that he rather liked the feel of Potter’s mouth on his skin and reached out, grabbing Potter from behind his neck, and crushing his lips hungrily against Potter’s.

Potter let out a surprised noise which Draco swallowed, moving his lips insistently against Potter’s, and then hands grabbed Draco’s hips and pulled him even closer still and Potter started kissing back, frustration and anger only serving to fuel the passion that Draco could feel pouring into the kiss, and Draco had never believed in heaven, but he was definitely somewhere very similar.

They broke apart for a second, gasping for air, but it wasn’t enough for Draco, who felt a white-hot rush of pure _need_ flooding his veins, and he seized Potter’s face in his hands and connected their mouths again, this time running his tongue along the seam of Potter’s lips insistently until he was granted entrance. Their tongues tangled, battling for dominance, and a moan escaped one of them – Draco wasn’t sure who – as they thoroughly explored each other, tongues running over teeth and hands running under clothes. Potter sucked Draco’s bottom lip into his mouth and the moan was definitely Draco’s this time. He made a noise of protest when Potter broke the kiss, only to hiss when Potter attacked his neck again, biting aggressively – not hard enough to break the skin as he had the first time, but enough so Draco knew that he’d be covered in marks for a week.

Draco ran his hands over Potter’s chest, feeling the skin so hot it was almost at fever pitch, the muscles rippling through his stomach as he moved, arching against Draco’s touch, nipping at his collarbone and drawing a series of moans from Draco’s lips.

“Get your fucking clothes off, Potter,” Draco demanded, his voice a lot huskier than normal.

“Harry,” Potter corrected him.

“Getting sentimental, are we, Potter?”

“I’m about to fuck you. I think such an event calls for first names,” Potter replied, popping open the buttons of Draco’s shirt and licking every patch of skin he exposed as he went along, pausing at his nipples to give each a sharp nip, then to swirl his tongue around one of them. Draco arched his back, desperate for more of that talented mouth, and decided that he really didn’t care what Pot– Harry wanted to be called, as long as he kept doing _that_.

“Too many goddamn clothes,” Draco snarled, ripping at Harry’s official brown trench coat. Harry seemed to agree as he began to remove Draco’s Ministry-issue robes, and both outer cloaks pooled at their feet. Draco nearly slipped on one of them and became too frustrated with the sheer number of fastenings on the flattering black shirt Harry had on and simply tore it off, sending buttons flying across the room. Harry hissed at the sudden onslaught of cool air on his flesh and then his mouth was on Draco’s again, a clash of tongues and teeth, hot breath mingling and the taste of something uniquely Harry in Draco’s mouth.

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” Harry growled into Draco’s mouth, fumbling with the buckle of Draco’s trousers as Draco did the same to his.

Even in a now lust-induced haze, Draco was quick to retort. “I figured it must have been mentally unhealthy, only having imaginary friends.”

A familiar angry fire burned in Harry’s eyes, which only had a rim of green surrounding a blown-wide pupil, and the sight nearly had Draco coming right there and then. He tugged at Draco’s belt buckle only one more time before letting out an annoyed snarl and Vanishing their remaining clothes on the spot. Draco didn’t mind, instantly raking his eyes over newly exposed skin. Harry’s frame had a lot more muscle than he remembered – not overwhelmingly so, but just the right amount – and his shoulders were a lot broader than Draco’s own. He licked his lips, his eyes trailing over a chiselled stomach and a thick, impossibly hard cock nestled in black curls. Fuck, his mouth was watering. 

“You drive me crazy!” Harry snarled as Draco flicked his tongue out to lick the shell of Harry’s ear, nibbling and tugging, and it took Draco a moment to register the jibe. He pulled away to stare at Harry again. He looked livid, pissed off, frustrated, and Draco realised that it was a rather good look for him – face all flushed so beautifully, eyes flashing in that way he loved, lips moving and looking so fucking _kissable_. Even with his cheek bruised and scratches running over the side of his chin where Draco had dragged his nails across the skin, he was certain he had never seen Harry look more fetching in his entire life. He reached down and stroked Harry’s cock slowly, relishing in the way Harry shuddered and moaned.

“Touching, I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” Draco smirked.

Harry growled and somehow managed to pull him around with one hand, clearing Draco’s files and paperwork off of the desk with his other, and shoved Draco face first into the table, slamming him down hard. Draco made a noise of protest, but he didn’t have any time to form a proper statement before Harry had reached around and grabbed his cock, pumping it in a slow, tantalising manner that caused Draco to gasp and attempt to fuck himself into Harry’s hand. Harry allowed him to, instead putting his focus on licking and biting every inch of Draco’s back, spending a little extra time on spots that he discovered were rather sensitive. He smoothed his free hand over Draco’s arse as he worked, and Draco was mewling and bucking his hips, grinding his cock into Harry’s hand.

“Got any lube?” Harry asked, his voice rough.

Draco shook his head – the Ministry liked to do surprise surveys on certain offices (Draco’s had made the list after he pulled a prank using a joke shop item on an unsuspecting Weasel three years ago), and getting caught with offending materials twice had taught him not to leave anything incriminating in his drawers. “Isn’t there some spell you can come up with for that, oh Chosen One?” Draco asked with a smirk as Harry rubbed circles over the small of his back.

“Not at the moment.”

Draco snorted. “Some Golden Boy you are.”

“Sorry, all the blood’s in my dick.” Harry replied, then he hesitated – actually hesitated – and began, “Maybe we should –”

“Don’t you fucking dare stop, Potter,” Draco snapped.

Harry chuckled at his demanding tone, and Draco was about to make another snarky comment when he felt something hot and wet brush against his ass, licking right where – _oh_.

Draco keened, arms giving out under him as he collapsed forward onto his desk. Harry ran his tongue along Draco’s hole, still fisting his swollen cock, and the combination of sensations reduced Draco to a pile of debauched moans and wanton noises he would deny to his dying day. Harry was practically fucking Draco with his tongue, stretching the muscle, and this was a first for Draco – he’d never allowed anyone to rim him before, but now he had to wonder why he’d held it off for so long; it was fucking incredible.

That was the last thought Draco had before completely losing all train of thought when Harry slipped a finger into him, crooked it, and continued to lavish attention on his slick hole with his tongue. Draco writhed beneath him, begging desperately, “More, more, fuck, please...” He didn’t even care that he was pleading so helplessly, all he wanted was _more_. His body was rocking back and forth into the hand wrapped around his cock and the tongue on his arse, and when Harry fitted another finger into him, it was too much, too fucking much, and he came with a filthy cry of Harry’s name.

When he came down from his high, Harry was still pumping his spent cock, milking him for all he was worth, and Draco whimpered at the oversensitivity – it was almost painful, so wrong but so fucking right at the same time. He squirmed under Harry’s grip and the Auror released him, returning his attention to Draco’s arse. A third finger had somehow worked its way into him, and Draco was exhausted from coming so hard that he could do nothing but weakly rock into it, but it still wasn’t enough, not even close to enough. Harry had leaned over him so that he was pressed against Draco, and was marking the back of Draco’s neck with hickeys. 

All of a sudden, Harry hit a spot within him and Draco gasped, bucking backwards and nearly throwing Harry off in his response. He was so deliciously sensitive after coming, and his vision blurred as he felt himself growing hard again. Harry pressed his fingers into that spot, rubbing it unrelentingly, and Draco let out a small, feeble sound. He writhed against Harry’s ministrations, not even caring that every single person in the Ministry could probably hear him, only wanting more of that sensation which was making his cock throb with arousal. He was fully hard again and every single persistent movement against his prostate was driving him further and further into bliss, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Harry,” Draco moaned. “Harry, fuck me.”

There was a possessive growl from above him, and then Harry pulled his fingers away. Draco whimpered needily at the loss, but moaned when he felt Harry’s cock press against his arse a few seconds later and slowly push into him. It stung a bit due to the lack of lube, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done this before, and Harry was surprisingly gentle – he waited until Draco relaxed before he fully sheathed his cock in Draco’s arse, and then stilled, waiting for Draco to adjust. Draco wondered vaguely if he’d done this before, because he certainly seemed experienced in this particular area of expertise, and the thought sent an odd surge of jealousy through him. 

“You’re so hungry, aren’t you, Draco? Hungry for my cock. You should hear yourself, hear those noises you’re making –”

Draco’s eyes shot wide open. He hadn’t expected someone like Harry to be a talker. A fucking good talker, at that.

“You have no idea all the things I want to do to you –”

Draco bit back a whimper and pushed back against Harry experimentally, and Harry moaned, deep and husky, sounding quite out of breath above him, and Draco felt a rush of pride – _he_ was the one who had managed to reduce Harry to this. Somehow, though, the idiot was still holding back, and Draco didn’t want Harry to be gentle with him. He wanted to be fucked, hard, rough and fast.

“Are you always this slow, Potter?” Draco smirked.

It was the right thing to say, but Draco didn’t have time to bask in triumph, because Harry had pulled almost all the way out and slammed ruthlessly back as far into him as it was possible to be. Draco’s hands gripped the table, holding on for dear life, as Harry thrust into him, slowly at first, then gradually creating a hard, fast rhythm that had Draco writhing and mewling desperately. Harry’s hands were gripping Draco’s hips hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck,” Draco moaned. “Please, I need...”

And then Harry had found the perfect angle and Draco was certain he was going to get fired because he was screaming so hard and his knuckles were white from gripping the edge of his desk. A hand snaked around Draco’s waist and wrapped itself around his cock, fisting it in time with Harry’s thrusts, and Draco cried out in pure, unfiltered pleasure.

“Oh, fuck yes, right there!” Draco moaned, keening and lifting his hips.

Just before he was about to go over the edge, Harry suddenly stopped and pulled out of him. Draco whimpered in protest, feeling rather empty, but Harry soothed him by pulling him up and spinning him around for a bruising kiss before shoving him roughly down onto the desk again. Draco’s back hit the hard wood, sending what little papers remained on the table scattering off of it and onto the floor. He only had a moment to recover before Harry thrust into him again, and this position was definitely a lot better, because he could wrap his legs around Harry’s waist, and Harry could bend over him, trapping his aching cock between their bodies, and kiss him thoroughly until his head was spinning from lack of oxygen. 

The angle was perfect as well, and Harry was pounding into him and hitting his mark every time with precision. His thrusts were becoming erratic and Draco was too far gone to do anything but rock back to meet him halfway, his hands once more flying above his head to grip the top of his desk. It was already splintering in his fingers, but he didn’t care. He could feel each movement of Harry’s cock rasping against his insides and dragging torturously over that spot within him that made him moan wantonly. He whimpered at the feel of the sweat-slicked skin of Harry’s stomach rubbing against his overfilled cock.

Harry leaned over, knowing he was so, so fucking close, and whispered in his ear, “You look so fucking hot impaled on my cock, you know that?” 

Draco mewled brokenly in response. He was so fucking close, and he needed release so badly. “Harry...I need...please!” he gasped, completely unable to string together a coherent sentence.

“So beautiful, so wonderfully responsive, so fucking _needy_ – ”

Fuck. Whoever taught Harry to talk like that deserved a medal. Draco would hunt that person down just to thank him.

“Who would’ve known?” Harry murmured into Draco’s mouth. “The annoying little Slytherin Prince –” he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, “–was such a whore?”

And that was it – Harry had uncovered one of his deepest, most secret kinks, and Draco unravelled beneath him. He cried out in ecstasy, seeing stars – no, a whole galaxy – and arching his back as he came for the second time that day. He clenched around Harry’s cock, and Harry let out a loud moan. Draco managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see Harry stiffen and his mouth fall open as he fell apart before he was completely consumed by pleasure.

Draco came down from his high to feel Harry gently soothing all the angry red marks he had left over his neck with gentle kisses. He wanted to say something, but for the fear of sounding just like a Hufflepuff, he carefully picked words in his head. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the doorknob to his office was turned and the voice of one of Minister Shacklebolt’s minions could be heard as it swung open.

“Mr. Malfoy, the Minister would like to see you following several reports of office dysfunction involving Mr. Potter –” The Ministry official stopped in his tracks and gaped, his jaw dropping, before he turned and ran out of the room, face red as a tomato.

Outside, Draco’s secretary, Miss Macavoy, could be heard saying, “I called it! Everyone here owes me ten Galleons each!”

Harry and Draco looked at each other, still intertwined, and laughed. Harry leaned down to kiss Draco in a surprisingly sweet and tender manner. 

“We’re in so much trouble,” Draco smirked.

“What else is new?” Harry grinned, and Draco chuckled as Harry leaned in to kiss him again.

.~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~..~:~. 

**Page 101:** _Anteoculatia is a hex that causes the target to grow antlers or horns._

Draco had a spring in his step when he entered the building the next morning, and he was actually smiling – so much so that several heads turned incredulously in his direction. The only person who seemed unsurprised was his secretary, who had just laughed when Draco hummed _A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love_ on his way into his office.

A few hours later, mind-numbingly bored with all his paperwork, majority of which he’d managed to salvage despite their rough treatment the previous day, he exited his office. Miss Macavoy watched him knowingly.

“Don’t think you’re going to escape from seeing the Minister again,” she warned him. “You should probably go to his office already – he asked you to see him at eleven o’clock, and that’s in five minutes.”

“Of course, I’d nearly forgotten,” Draco lied. There was no getting out of this – he was due a reprimand, and the Minister would hunt him down if he didn’t come quietly. He sighed, walked over to the lift, and pressed the button that would lead him to Level One.

The doors slid open and he paced out into the hall. His mood improved considerably upon seeing a familiar man standing near the lift and chatting animatedly with Percy Weasley. It seemed that Draco wasn’t the only one in a good mood. Harry hadn’t noticed him yet, being too focused on getting his message across, and Draco decided to take advantage of that. He raised his wand and whispered “ _Anteoculatia_.”

A rush of red light hit Harry squarely in the back, and he stumbled forward. Weasley caught him before he fell over, and Draco only had a moment to register a pang of jealousy before Harry spun around and glared right at Draco, a pair of rather majestic antlers now coming out of the top of his head.

“Nice,” Draco noted. “Really brings out your eyes.”

Harry reached for his wand, and Draco dashed down the hallway and rounded the corner, only coming to a stop outside the Minister’s office, where he knocked quickly and was admitted immediately. The door opened for him just as Harry came into sight, and Draco smirked at him before escaping to the safety of Minister Shacklebolt’s office.

Not much had changed despite the new development in their relationship, Draco was pleased to know. He still very much wanted to spend his free time hexing Potter, and Potter still wanted to murder him each time after that.

But some things had changed, too. For example, perhaps Harry would be very, very cross with Draco’s unrelenting hexes, and would punish Draco very, very severely when they met up for dinner later.

Oh, if he should be so lucky.

_Finite_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/66897.html).


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